to a newspaper office that he turned. He still had some money left. But, as it chanced, he did not carry out his intention.
Things move so quickly in Newspaper Row. The news of Wood's dismissal had permeated the entire room before he was quite out of it. Before he was down the stairs a certain mature-faced office-boy had stolen unobserved to the telephone closet, carefully closed the door and called up the city editor of The Earth.
"Is that you, Mr. McCarthy?" said the boy in The Day office, glancing behind him to see that no one was watching him through the sound-proof glass door—"Hello, Mr. McCarthy, you know who this is—yes. Well, B. W. turned up, and dey give him de grand t'row down—what?—Yes, just now, just dis minute—what? I don't know where he went.—Naw, I couldn't sneak downstairs after him. I'm scared to death now—I say I'm scared to death now dat dey's getting onto me here. No, he was sober—Yes, if you hurry. All right, yes, sir. Good-by."
Then the office-boy rang off, and walked
11
